


honeypot boy

by lemon_meringue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Horny Bucky Barnes, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter is 21 and Bucky is late 20's or very early 30's so now you know, Pining Bucky Barnes, i can't believe that's a tag wow, no officer i've never seen a beta before in my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 04:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_meringue/pseuds/lemon_meringue
Summary: And if Peter thinks that Bucky’s surprise is solely because removing his mask has revealed how young he is, (and not also, or maybe even more so, because the boy under the spider suit is ridiculously fucking beautiful) well, Bucky’s not telling him any different.Alternatively: Peter takes off the mask. Bucky has a crush.





	honeypot boy

**Author's Note:**

> I’m going to update and eventually complete all of my wips, I promise, I just needed to finish something. >> Is what I planned on saying, before I wrote this, and then realized that it was Not going to be a oneshot. Fuck me. 
> 
> Lots of love, your local train wreck <3

Shit. 

*** 

It takes almost six months for Bucky to get used to staying at the compound. 

At first, he keeps to his room and only ventures out when his enhanced senses can’t detect anyone else around, or when Steve and Sam prompt him into going outside. He moves slow and deliberate, cautious of where he is. He gets his hair cut short, but then his reflection looks too much like the James Barnes from the 40’s that he’ll never be again, so he thinks he might let it grow back out, actually.

He uses his metal arm all the time now. This one is lighter, more firm and more proprioceptive, meant for threading needles and picking flowers (hypothetically), not pulling triggers and breaking <strike>people</strike> things. 

He thinks Shuri and Tony worked together to make it, because he can feel things now. Not like it’s really part of him, but the sensations are there. Dull, but there. Temperature and pressure so much more realistic and advanced than the one HYDRA made him. Shuri says she’s working on adding a texture addition. Bucky doesn’t need that, though. The soft cotton of sweaters and pillowcases to the rest of his body are more than enough after seventy years of kevlar body armour and steel cots. 

It takes roughly three weeks for most of the Avengers who base out of the facility to grow accustomed to his presence. He doesn’t go on many missions, as he’s still recovering from the treatments in Wakanda, but he offers some tactical advice whenever the team deals with HYDRA operatives and he bakes bread with Natasha on occasion, thanks to her (and Steve’s, and Shuri’s and Sam’s and Vision’s) gentle insistence.

It takes Tony two months to stop being borderline hostile towards him, a third for Tony to stop being cold at all, and a fourth for them to accidentally encounter each other in the kitchen at four in the morning, where both of them end up crying. They don’t embrace or comfort each other, really, just stand side by side, leaning against the island counter, talking in the dim light of the microwave timer as their voices get progressively quieter and more broken up. 

Tony puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky puts a hand on Tony’s, and they aren’t holding each other up, and they don’t say anything else for a long time, but after that morning, Bucky doesn’t wonder anymore where he and the other man stand. 

All in all, it takes Tony Stark four months to forgive completely and move on.  
  
Bucky wonders how long it’ll take himself to do the same. 

One year after moving into the compound, though, he feels better. He feels ok.

He likes soft sweaters and fluffy blankets and watching cooking channels and animal planet, and no one takes issue with it. He almost cries the day Tony asks him to watch Morgan. He almost cries again when she tells him that his metal arm is better than any monkey bars she’s ever been on, after he lifts her up and swings her around a little while she clings to it. He keeps his hair trimmed short, after all. He goes on missions, sometimes, because in addition to feeling more real and less murderous, his new arm is also stronger than the last and he’s still a sharp shooter. 

But no one asks him to go on missions very often. So he burns off most of his excess energy by working out in the training gym. 

***

Oh, _shit_. 

***

It’s the training gym where he meets Spider-Man a few weeks after moving in. 

Spider-Man, who still fanboys over Bucky’s arm and combat abilities and intelligence like the first day they met. Who doesn’t hold a grudge or think poorly of him at all. The third week they meet in the gym, Spider-Man is gushing over Bucky’s ability to stop a bullet with his palm, and Bucky suddenly bites out if the other knows anything about him at all, and the guy stops mid swing to stare as contemplatively as one can while wearing a mask, before answering. 

Spider-Man knows about HYDRA. About his killing streak. Even a little bit about what happened in Siberia, or at least, the content of the video behind it. 

Spider-Man tells him it’s not his fault and that for what it’s worth, he thinks Bucky is a good person. 

Spider-Man has too much energy and too much optimism and Bucky cherishes every second he gets to spend with the guy. He’s a little worried about how young the other hero seems, remembering too vividly that he fought him at the airport years ago, but the younger assures him that he’s an adult. 

He never tells Bucky his exact age, though. He never tells Bucky even his first name. And he never takes off the mask. 

For about a year. And then Bucky’s entire fucking brain implodes. 

***

_Holy shit_. 

“My name- m-my real person name, is Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.” The kid says softly. There’s a nervous but open, welcoming smile on his face and Bucky feels like he can see right into Peter’s mind through big, chocolate brown eyes. 

_Doe eyes, like that deer, Bambi_.

Tony says something about agreeing that if Peter did well on their latest mission (which involved most of the team coming together to provide pest control for crocodile-meets-porcupine aliens that tried to drain Lake fucking Superior) then maybe it was time for him to reveal his identity to the Avengers. And, potentially, the world, but that’s a whole different conversation. Tony’s point being that Peter did very, very well, so here they are, and the kid lights up at the praise and looks like he’s glowing with pride. 

_Puppy dog eyes. Eyes like a goddamn puppy_.

“I’m sorry, Peter, but how old are you?” Steve asks, reaching out to shake the kid’s hand. Peter eagerly returns the handshake and explains that he’s currently twenty-one. 

_Twenty-fucking-one._

“Seriously? How old were you when-” Steve cuts himself off, doing the math in his head.

“Technically I was seventeen but I turned eighteen really soon after,” Peter hurries to explain. 

_Seventeen. Bucky could’ve hurt a seventeen year old. Hell, he’d _tried _to. He could’ve— _

“It’s ok, Mr. Barnes, really, I’m really strong and, I mean obviously I was just with everyone in that fight, so, I, you already know what I can do, and I heal really fast, and I don’t think you would’ve hurt me for real because we were all still on the same side of, you know, Avengers and not bad guys anyways, right?” Peter rambles off. Bucky realizes he was thinking out loud and he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Right.” He says, because that sounds like the right thing to say. He’s not sure what else he could say. Peter lets out a sharp breath of relief and steps forward to shake the older man’s hand. 

Bucky meets the kid’s hand in a daze, mouth slightly parted and eyebrows shot up, and he doesn’t realize that he’s holding on too long until he realizes that it’s Peter who hasn’t let go yet. 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, um, are you ok? Mr. Barnes?” The younger drops their hands quickly but looks at him with furrowed concern. He glances between Steve, who’s taking the news in stride, and Bucky, who might be gaping like a fish, all nervous and the turn of his head makes his fluffy hair bounce a little and a few wayward curls fall across his forehead.

_Twenty-one_. 

He doesn’t fix them. Bucky has the urge to push them back with his own hand. Tuck the hair behind his ear, run his fingers through the rest. Rub gently at the base of the kid’s neck and behind his ears, put his mouth right at the junction of his jaw and trace down the supple skin of his neck, skim teeth over his adam’s apple and stop to kiss at his sternum, before—

_Shit_.

“He’s fine, Peter, just shocked that you were so young, I think.” Steve explains. He nudges Bucky’s shoulder with his own and probably gives the kid a reassuring grin that Bucky doesn’t see, because Spider-Man nods and shrugs and shifts from foot to foot, looking at the soldier’s still mildly bewildered expression with a hopeful smile. 

And if Peter thinks that Bucky’s surprise is solely because removing his mask has revealed how young he is, (and not also, or maybe even more so, because the boy under the spider suit is ridiculously fucking beautiful) well, Bucky’s not telling him any different. 

He nods along to Steve’s explanation before forcing himself out of the startle. 

“Yeah. Sorry, Peter. Didn’t mean to go all vacant there.” He elaborates. Peter relaxes again. 

“No problem! I know it’s, um, kind of weird for someone as young as me to be on the team.” 

Steve gives him a good-natured chuckle that makes the kid’s shoulders slump down a little more, relief on his face as Captain America assures him that he’s more than proved himself very capable of being an Avenger, and that they’ll do their best not to make him feel excluded at all because of his age. 

_Too easy to read, too eager to please_.

Peter thanks Steve wholeheartedly and Tony throws an arm over the kid’s shoulder, shouting to the group that they should hop on the jet and get home. 

“I’m starving. Famished. What do you want to eat? Ever had sushi, Pete? I take that back, ever had _good_ sushi?” 

“Yeah, I’ve had sushi lots of times-” 

“You’ve had california rolls at a ramen-centric hole-in-the-wall, it’s not the same thing. We’re going to have sushi when we get back. If you want a free ride to New York you better get on that jet, Barnes!” Tony replies, shouting back. Bucky realizes suddenly that they’d been walking away and are turned back to him, beckoning him towards the plane down the beach.

He swallows hard, then watches as Peter laughs at Tony’s brashness, smiling at Bruce next to them and looking to Bucky, his wild hair blowing in the breeze and, has he always looked so lithe?

What was skinny but not to be underestimated, defined but small, is suddenly... svelte. _Supple_. Bucky catches up and Peter’s lips look a temptingly pale pink, his cheeks rosy and his goddamn puppy eyes positively gleaming. He runs both hands through his hair to get it out of his face and the action just shows off how thin his waist is to comparatively broad shoulders. His chest rises and falls with some undying vigor of youth and, oh no, don’t look, don’t look down you perverted— 

Fuck. 

The suit does great things for Peter’s ass. Great things. 

Bucky swallows a second time, harder, and watches Peter skip to keep up with Tony’s steps, trotting into the jet, trying to explain that the california rolls were authentic and quality, and that food doesn’t have to cost his entire rent to be good. 

Tony argues that it’s one hell of a way to ensure it will be, though. He adds that quality is pricey and just because food is cooked and seasoned so that it tastes good doesn’t mean there isn’t better, to every definition and degree of the word. 

Bucky keeps his eyes on his boots for the ride back to the city, on the grains of dry and wet sand stuck to the toes and heels, resting his forehead in his palm. He only has to promise Steve that he’s feeling fine once and his friend doesn’t ask again. 

They change into casual, civilian clothing when they get back, because even though Tony’s argument with Peter over guaranteeing standard with money indicated that they’d eat from some place overly expensive, they end up ordering in. 

(Still expensive, Tony promised, but more comfortable.)

Spider-Man has had a room at the compound for longer than Bucky, but for the first time ever, he leaves his spider suit in his room, and almost gives Bucky an aneurysm.

He wears a plain white hoodie with black joggers and it’s so different from the skin-tight, leaves-nothing-at-all-to-the-imagination superhero get-up, but it makes him look _soft_ and cozy, and that’s enticing in a whole different way.

He looks cute. 

He looks cute and relaxed and at home and safe, like he should be snuggled up to someone, wrapped up in someone’s arms and dozing off. 

His cheeks are still a little pink and his puppy eyes widen and then roll back in his head when he takes his first bite of fish. It’s just salmon, but it must be damn good salmon, because he moans around his chopsticks and the soy sauce makes his lips gleam, and when the little flash of tongue peaks out to lick clean, Bucky thinks he’s done for. 

Peter moans again when he tries a sushi roll (what kind is it? Who cares), and there’s a little dab of something on the corner of his mouth that Bucky wants to wipe off unnecessarily slowly with his thumb <strike>and then slip his thumb into Peter’s mouth</strike>, or lick off his cheek and plant a kiss on his nose, but he can’t (even though he’s too mesmerized for any natural social boundaries to stop him) because the sweet, quiet sounds of delight Peter makes at the flavors are starting to make Bucky’s waist and neck feel hot. 

The kid straight up whimpers when Tony takes his plate away and pushes a bowl of ramen in front of him, with sweet rolls on a napkin and a glass of a clear, carbonated drink (is it american soda? who knows), and the noise almost makes Bucky choke on a too-big gulp of water (an attempt to cool himself off). Tony argues that he’ll make himself sick if he eats any more raw fish and to eat the ramen if he’s still so hungry. Peter grumbles in disagreement but starts sipping at the broth in front of him.

It’s the soy sauce all over again, but this time Peter’s lips stay gleaming the entire time and his attempts to clean them with his tongue only end up turning them a lovely shade of rose pink. 

Bucky tries not to watch him too much or too carefully, but he can’t stop himself. Peter’s a fucking vision. 

People start to file away after dinner and Bucky plans to do the same, to go hide in his room and confront his brain and his dick about what the hell they think they’re doing, but when Tony invites Peter to watch something in the living room and then opens the invitation to everyone still in the kitchen, Bucky realizes he couldn’t leave if he tried. 

He doesn’t even want to try. 

He sits at one end of the couch and Tony sits on the other and Peter plops down right between them. 

They’ve done this before. The occasional movie night or casual run-in. But Peter was always in the suit. In the tight, _t__ight_ Spider-Man suit that Bucky would occasionally appreciate for the pleasant view of Spider-Man’s strong, flexible, attractive-but-really-more-_admirable-_than-anything-else body. 

The Spider-Man suit that left nothing to the imagination about Peter Parker, except for the fact that he’s gorgeous and looks like a literal fucking angel. 

He pulls his knees up to his chest and all it does is show off how baggy the clothes are on his thin frame, how he pushes right past the apparent boundaries of the clothing to where his real figure, sylphlike and perfect, hides away. 

Tony puts on a Star Wars movie that Bucky doesn’t recognize. 

“You’ve never seen this one?!” Peter exclaims, turning to the older man with his puppy eyes blown wide and his mouth gaping. Bucky wants to put his fingers in that mouth. He wants to put other things in that mouth, too, like his own tongue, and if Peter could take it (which maybe he can’t? Has he ever before? Does he know how?), then maybe his— 

He shakes his head. 

Peter cups his own face in mock-horror and Bucky cracks a grin at the innocent display. 

“Please tell me you’ve seen other Star Wars movies though. Because if you haven’t seen at _least_ Return Of The Jedi, I’m going to faint.” 

Bucky and Tony both laugh at that, and so does Rhodey from the armchair, and Bucky cocks his head to the side. 

“Mmm, I’m not sure. I’ve seen the one with the race, I think. They’re in the desert or something, and that kid races?” He offers. Peter’s face doesn’t change for a few seconds, like he’s processing what Bucky says, and then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“I’m gonna pass out. Ok, this is fine. We can fix this. I’m gonna show you all the movies, we’re gonna watch all of them. They’re incredible, I don’t know how much you know, or remember, but there’s jedi and they’re amazing and Luke is like, the sci-fi live action equivalent to Sheigo from Mob— nevermind, that’s, that’s a whole different thing, it’s this show my friend MJ is showing me— whatever that’s irrelevant the point is that you have to watch these movies,” Peter pauses his ramble for a second, then puts his hands up defensively, “Unless you don’t want to! Which is totally fine and cool. But if you’d like to, if you’re up for it or whatever, which it’s completely alright if you’re not, then-” 

“I’d like to watch them.” Bucky cuts him off. Peter is… really, really cute when he gets flustered and rambles, Bucky decides, but it seemed like he was about to spiral. 

And, also. 

An excuse to spend extended hours with Peter Parker? Watching movies, where he could probably get away with creepily staring at the kid and memorizing the details of his beautiful face (as if they aren’t already scarred into his mind)? Sounds good to Bucky. 

“Y-Yeah?” Peter peps up. Bucky grins a little wider, because those ridiculous goddamn puppy eyes look like they’re downright sparkling.

Bucky just nods in response and Peter lets out a series of fluttered, relieved sighs, then lights up again when he realizes that he’s successfully roped Bucky into a Star Wars marathon. 

“Ok awesome, awesome, Mr. Stark we, we gotta start with the first one, do you have-? I mean I could probably rip it off the internet, that’s what Ned and I do for a lot of movies, so-” 

“Ignoring the fact that you’re aware I am a billionaire, that I’ve made you multiple multi-million dollar suits, that you have a room in my house and you _still_ pirate movies online— yes, Pete, I can get the first one. Friday? Pull up A New Hope.” Tony interrupts, ruffling Peter’s hair. The younger bats his hand away with a melodic laugh. 

“Thank you,” he chirps in a sing-song voice. 

Peter rushes to explain the concept of intro credits and that Bucky should read them to understand what the movie is going to be about. He doesn’t read them, because he can’t focus enough to make his eyes comprehend written words, but he watches the television as the beginning theme plays, only because Peter keeps eyeing him excitedly. 

Rhodey leaves half an hour into the movie, and Tony retires around the forty-five minute mark. 

Meaning when Peter’s eyes start to droop and his shoulders slouch and suddenly he’s sliding over, falling against Bucky’s side, there’s no one there to tell him if he should nudge Peter off and wake him up. 

So he doesn’t. 

He drops his flesh arm from the back of the couch to rest around Peter’s shoulders and bodily pulls the kid against him. In his sleep, Peter wiggles closer, snuggling into Bucky’s side, and the soldier has to force himself to stay calm, keep his heartbeat steady. 

The hoodie is rumpled and Peter’s hair is messy in the best possible way, and he breathes quietly with a barely open mouth. His knees fall down onto Bucky’s thigh and one arm seems to instinctively curl up, resting on Bucky’s stomach. 

Peter Parker is fucking adorable, and Bucky has no fucking clue what’s going on in the movie. The lightsabers look pretty cool and the droids are funny, but Peter mumbles and whines when Bucky tries to sit up more (because the kid’s hand is dangerously close to Bucky’s crotch and the fact that Peter looks like an angel sleeping and snuggled against him does nothing to dissuade a threatening erection) and it’s so fucking _cute_ but it also sends a throb of arousal down to the pit of his stomach. 

Bucky really needs to get laid. 

Peter sleeps soundly and Bucky lets him, until the end credits roll and Friday shuts off the television, and Bucky reluctantly rubs Peter’s shoulder to wake him up. 

The kid is disoriented at first, but when he realizes where he is (specifically, the position he’s in), all Bucky does is blink and suddenly Peter is up off the couch and on the other side of the living room. 

“Oh god I’msosorryMr.Barnes I really didn’t mean to fall asleep on you I’m so sorry that was so weird I’m sorry if I made you uncomf-” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, Pete.” _Oh, we’re on a ‘Pete’ basis now, huh?_ “Really, it’s fine, I didn’t mind. I don’t mind. You didn’t do anything wrong, you— you seemed pretty tired. Thought you could use the sleep.” Bucky says softly. He stands up and he’s glad it’s kind of dark in here, because he definitely, definitely has a semi now, thanks to Peter (_unknowingly, you pervert _) pushing against his lower stomach when he panic-propelled himself away, fingers and palm skirting over Bucky’s crotch. 

“Ah-I-, yeah, I’m, I’m really tired after today, um, I’m sorry but, also, thank you, I guess, for letting me do that... s-sorry…” Peter stumbles through his words and Bucky hates how cute it is. How cute he is standing on the other side of the room, rubbing his arm defensively, awkwardly shifting around, not sure if he should smile reassuringly or cry from embarrassment. Eyes still shining. 

“You should go to bed. In your real bed. I’m going to check out too. The movie was good; I’m looking forward to the next one. G’night, Peter.” Bucky says, and he keeps his voice casual with a hand in his pocket and a half-assed wave as he strolls into the hall and away to his room, but it’s one big fascade so he doesn’t say or do something stupid— so it's not as obvious that he's running away before he says or does the stupid thing.

Like cross the living room instead and grab Peter’s face with both his hands and kiss him on his pretty lips until they swell, or pick Peter up by the backs of his thighs and hike him into Bucky’s arms, so he wraps his lovely legs around the older man’s waist and Bucky can breathe him in at the crook of his neck. 

He hurries to his room. 

The door closes softly and Bucky doesn’t wait another minute before stripping to his boxers and dropping onto his bed. He stares intently at the wall with the eye not submerged in his pillow and groans into the plush mattress. 

Peter is gorgeous. He’s an open book and he’s too desperate for approval, it’s making Bucky’s head spin. Spider-Man has always been incredibly kind, considerate. A more than good person, easily, no doubt. But the mask gives Peter confidence, Bucky can tell. The suit clears the kid’s head and makes everything easier. Easier to interact with people, easier to be a hero, easier to think fast— whether for a witty comeback or for stopping the villain of the week. 

Spider-Man has a good heart and firm morals and is both a powerful ally and a formidable opponent, in any context. Spider-Man is slim, but strong. A body Bucky can appreciate and a hero he can train with, work with, occasionally have a laugh with.

Peter is precious. He’s sweet and lacks self-assurance but makes up for it with just how enthusiastic he is to appeal to the whims of others. How enthusiastic he is to _please_. 

_He blushes under praise. A low “good boy, Peter” in the right tone could probably get him hard._

_ Pervert. _

Peter is, shit, he’s _wholesome_ and he’s got all that bubbly energy and so much ‘save the world’ bundled inside him (now who does that remind Bucky of?), but he’s fucking sin on legs without even meaning to be. 

He’s beautiful and he makes Bucky’s blood pump (specifically: south) and it’s an issue, because he’s barely old enough to drink and cryo might’ve kept him a young adult but Bucky is technically old enough to be this kid’s grandfather or some shit, which makes the soldier physically shudder in his bed.

Shit. 

_Shit_.

He closes his eyes and all he can see is Peter blushing and smiling at him for agreeing to watch Star Wars, giving the older man the urge to kiss his cheeks and call him “baby”. 

Bucky shakes the image away and tries again, and this time he sees a pretty pink tongue licking up the soy sauce from shining lips, making Bucky hot under his shirt. 

When his third attempt to clear his head lands him with the image of Peter skipping and stumbling and scampering to keep up with Tony and prove that quality can be cheap, Bucky’s focus stolen by his slender hips and flat stomach, skin tight suit doing _great _ things for his ass, and those bright, bright puppy dog eyes— 

Bucky lets the picture hang around.

He falls asleep above the blankets, thinking about how warm Peter felt curled up against him, how close the kid’s hand was to Bucky’s not-disinterested dick. The way his ass moved when he jogged to keep up with Stark. 

A flash of rosy lips and shapely thighs and big brown eyes that Bucky can see right through ensure his last coherent thought is pleading for his dreams to remain Peter-free and family-friendly. 

His dreams have other plans. 

(They are neither.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna try really really hard not to make this a long slow burn, so hopefully there will be smut + smut tags + and an /ending/ very soon. 
> 
> Thanks for reading babes <3
> 
> p.s. this + (probably) the next chapters' titles are from Ollie MN's vine song of the same name/lyrics (you can find the vine on youtube by searching "puppy dog eyes Ollie MN". would recommend, I love it)


End file.
